


Crimson Beginnings

by Starisia



Category: D.Gray-man
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-09-28
Updated: 2013-09-28
Packaged: 2017-12-27 21:43:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,322
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/983954
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Starisia/pseuds/Starisia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It all began that night. The night he watched, transfixed as the form continued its graceful dance, bare feet ghosting across the sandy ground as a blade of glistening steel cute through the air with lethal precision, the figure moving with the grace and fluidity of living water...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Crimson Beginnings

The halls were near silent, the iridescent white light of the stars and the claw mark of white the moon so resembled filtering in through the windows that lined the corridor every few feet the only thing that illuminated the darkness of the near black halls, setting alight the pale white hair of the corridors only inhabitant, the glow it produced making the white tresses look like a pale halo despite the dingy grey that stained a few of the pale tresses.

His eyes were somber, no more than specs of pale, feverish moonlight as soft pants ensued from his soft, pale, rose petal pink lips as he stumbled through the halls, pausing every few minutes to lean against the wall, careful not to put any weight on his bruised ribs, gratitude washing through him at the lack of others in the hall, although at this hour he knew he shouldn't have been surprised.

Everyone was most likely safe in bed, aside from the members of the Research Division who were no doubt hard at work as per usual; all unaware to the young Exorcist's return and the shape he was in, much to his relief. The last thing he wanted was for someone to see him in this shape and start fussing and worrying over him when his wounds were so minor. He was sure he'd be better in the morning after he got some sleep and his body had a chance to regain a bit of its energy, and after he took a warm bath to relieve a bit of his pain.

He'd had far worse than this while training with Master Cross, the scars that marred his back and chest proving to be a testament to the difficult years spent with the redheaded general, so the pain was easier to work and think through than it could have been.

He sighed in mild agitation as he pushed away from the wall and continued walking once more, one arm wrapping around his chest in an attempt to stop his side from crying out in protest as he made his way through the maze-like corridors of the black tower, past the countless doors, being careful to avoid the hall that contained the Research Department despite how much quicker he would have been able to make it to his room if he just went by it, choosing instead to take the longer route, believing that the area around the training room would be as deserted as the entryway and the other corridors he'd gone through thus far, and that he'd be able to find his way to his room alright despite the unfamiliar course.

He sighed again after a few minutes, this time in relief as he turned down the hall of the training room, finding the corridor as empty and dead as he'd hoped, and continued his course. He paused when he felt the exhaustion sneaking up on him once again, and leaned against the training hall door, closing his eyes for a few moments as he waited for the dizziness to subside. It did so quickly enough and he straightened up, fully prepared to continue on his way, only to freeze in place as the sound of shuffling emanated from beyond the wooden door.

 _'Who would be training at this hour…?'_ He thought, brow furrowing in confusion. He debated for a moment before sighing and silently pushing the door open, just enough to slip inside, closing it as quietly as possible behind him, before turning toward where the sound was coming from.

The light was dimmer in here than in the corridors, but not so dim as to render him unable to see, and his eyes widened slightly as they landed on the only other inhabitant of the huge room.

He watched, transfixed as the form continued its graceful dance, bare feet ghosting across the sandy ground as a blade of glistening steel cute through the air with lethal precision, the figure moving with the grace and fluidity of living water, yet retaining a fierceness that made it clear that each movement could prove to be the last thing his rivals ever saw.

Black slacks hung loose on slim hips, held in place by the long braided belt, and pristine white bandages were the only thing that covered even a margin of the slightly tanned expanse of a muscular back and well-toned chest, another strip of white cloth wrapped around dark, cutting eyes, hiding them from the rest of the world and stealing away his own sight.

Allen continued to stare, mesmerized as the dance continued, too focused on the graceful form to even remember his own exhaustion as the performance reached its peak, the other male's movements becoming swifter and more fierce as he twisted in place and lunged forward, bringing his blade up across the chest of an invisible foe, his wrist twisting as his blow reached its highest point, and he swiftly brought it back down and thrust it behind him, spearing another invisible enemy. Without warning the other male leapt forward, Allen's eyes widening as both hands came up to hold the blade's smooth hilt, bringing it up in a high ark, the blow coming down with swift, deadly accuracy, the elder landing on one knee as the blow split his final enemy in two, the sharp sword resting with its tip on the ground, its master making no move to stand for several seconds as he took several deep, even breathes.

Allen blinked and shook his head sharply to clear it as the older male straightened up and reached back, deftly undoing the blindfold and letting it fall from his eyes, cobalt gaze snapping to the whitette and a frown of disdain tugging at the his lips the instant he caught sight of the snowy locks and crimson scar.

"H-Hello Kanda," Allen said, laughing somewhat nervously under the dark haired warrior's sharp gaze,  
"Wh-what are you doing here so early?"

"What the hell does it look like I'm doing?" Kanda growled in reply, annoyance lacing his tone as he approached the bench Allen stood beside, drawing the boy's attention to the shirt and jacket that rested there, folded neatly alongside a polished sheathe that bore only the minimum amount of wear from its time with the dark haired exorcist.

Allen frowned at the other's tone, his brow furrowing slightly in distaste, "I was just asking a simple question, must you be so rude?"

"Che, it wasn't simple Moyashi, it was stupid. There's a difference," Kanda scoffed, pulling on the white button up and pulling his hair from the collar.

"There's also a difference between my name and 'Moyashi'. What is a 'moyashi' anyway?"

"It's a beansprout, meaning there's no difference between it and you, Short stack."

"The name's 'Allen', Kanda. Or is it that difficult for you to remember?" Allen inquired, the smallest trace of irritation lacing his tone.

"Like I said before; Last a year and maybe I'll  _consider_  remembering your name," He paused his dark gaze flickering back to the younger exorcist, regarding him with a cold scrutiny, eyes raking up and down the smaller's frame, resting momentarily on the small line of dried blood on his chin and a barely there bruise above his right eye, almost completely hidden by the snowy tresses that fell in his eyes, "And from the looks of you I won't have to remember at all."

"Excuse me?"

"Tch, you've barely been here a month and you already look like shit."

" _Excuse me?_ " Allen asked again, aghast at the elder's directness.

"Are you really that stupid?" Kanda questioned, one eyebrow raised incredulously, "Fine then, I'll spell it out for you; You. Look. Like. Shit. There's no way in hell a scrawny little  _weakling_  like you has what it takes to last a full year as an exorcist-hell, I'll be amazed if you last half that, therefore I have no reason to remember your name now and I won't have any reason to remember it then."

"Do you always talk to our comrades like this?" Allen snapped, glaring at the elder with all the strength he could muster in his current condition.

"Tch what ' _comrades'_? I don't have any ' _comrades'_  and if I did there certainly wouldn't be any here. All I see here is a weak, annoying, half-dead  _Moyashi_  who doesn't seem to have the brainpower to realize when he's not wanted."

Allen felt his annoyance surge, swiftly morphing into anger, silver eyes going wide as though the words had been a physical blow. He gritted his teeth, glaring at the elder male with as much intensity as he could muster, "Well, I guess that's a good thing then," He said, putting as much venom into his voice as he could manage, "After all, I doubt you even know what the word  _means_ , and with your attitude I doubt anyone would actually _want_  to be a one to the likes of  _you_."

"I know full well what it means; it means a fucking waste of time and an annoying brat who does nothing but jeopardize the mission and get in my way. Why the fuck would I want some worthless shit like that?"

"Ya know what Kanda? You may be valued and respected as an exorcist, but as a human being you're the one who's worth less than the air you're breathing!"

Kanda tensed, swiftly pulling on his jacket before turning on Allen, ebony fire burning in his cobalt eyes and before Allen fully understood what was happening Kanda's hand was bunched in the collar of his jacket, the strong fibers of the cloth digging into his throat, making it near impossible to draw a single breath. His eyes widened, black dots dancing behind his eyes, and he bit down hard on his lower lip to keep the agonized gasp from escaping his throat, the coppery taste of his own blood dancing on his tongue, mixing with the bile that was steadily rising in the back of his throat as he was pushed violently, his head and back colliding with the stone wall, sending waves of blistering, searing  _pain_  through his already abused body.

He felt Kanda's grip on his collar tighten, making it that much harder to draw air into his bruised lungs, and he did all he could to keep from crying out in pain as he was forced harder against the stone wall and he gritted his teeth, glaring at the other exorcist through the dots of black and the dizziness that made his stomach churn.

"Listen and listen closely, you fucking brat," Kanda spat, pressing harder still against the white-haired's throat, "I don't have to take that shit from a scrawny weakling like you, you got that, and next time you say something like that to me I will gut you without so much as a second thought."

"Tch," Allen rasped his voice rough as though his throat were lined with sandpaper, his eyes becoming more and more unfocused, "I-I'd like to see you.. t-try..." he voice trailed off into a quiet groan, his eyes falling closed, despite how hard he tried to keep them open, his head lolling forward as darkness settled.

**S2 S2 S2 S2 S2**

Kanda blinked in shock as the brat when limp in his grasp, unsure of what the hell was going on with the beansprout.

 _'What the…'_  He thought as he drew back slightly, eyes raking up and down the moyashi's form, deep cobalt eyes going even wider as he noticed the rapidly growing patches of violet and crimson seeping into the blue and white fibers of the brat's uniform.

"Oi!" He said, voice harsh, shaking the kid violently, trying to get some rise out of him, but all he received was a soft moan of pain, and a growing stain as the movement jostled one of the hidden wounds.

He cursed under his breath and picked Allen up, throwing him unceremoniously over one shoulder, a growl rumbling low in his throat, as another soft moan escaped the wounded brat, before he grabbed his blade and kicking the door to the training hall open and stalking out, Mugen in one hand, the other keeping the unconscious boy from falling.

He'd thought the brat looked bad, but he hadn't expected the fucking sprout to be bleeding through his cloths beneath the thick cloth of his uniform. He didn't hesitate a moment once he was in the night darkened corridor before turning sharply on his heel, his feet carrying him along the familiar path until he reached the abused wooden door in a near deserted section of the order.

He growled, leaning Mugen against the wall beside the battered wood and dug in his pocket, quickly retrieving the small silver key hidden within, shoving it into the lock and twisting, the door opening with a soft click a moment later. He made a soft sound of annoyance and placed the key back in his pocket before grabbing Mugen once more and stepping inside, barely pausing to kick the door closed behind him, completely ignoring the loud bang that reverberated through the room, his attention locked on the bed across from the abused door, and he quickly closed the distance between himself and the desired item.

He leaned down, allowing the moyashi to fall to the mattress, paying little heed to the pained groan that escaped the kid's throat as his back met the bedspread before straightening up with a soft scoff and making his way to the adjoining bathroom, shuffling through the cabinets and cursing under his breath until he finally found what he sought, grabbing a few hand towels before returning to Allen, laying the retrieved first aid kit beside him along with the towels, before turning his attention to the beansprout on his bed.

He glared at the crimson stains for a moment before scoffing once more, reaching out and deftly undoing the silver buttons of the younger exorcist's jacket, spreading it open before doing the same with the torn, red-stained cotton shirt. Wrapping one arm around the boy's back beneath the cloth, he hoisted him up just enough to remove the offensive material that seemed hell-bent on blocking him, throwing them both in a nameless corner before allowing his gaze to flicker across the boy's lightly toned torso, taking in the crisscrossing patterns created by countless pale scars before shifting to the three deep wounds that adorned his right should, and the other four that wrapped around his left side, each resembling the marks left behind by a giant beast's talons as they continued to bleed as well as the countless bruises that littered his chest, stomach, and arms. He couldn't help but notice how uneven the brat's breathing had become.

He scoffed again before growling in annoyance and reaching out to take hold of the kit and one of the towels, fishing though the box for a few seconds until his hand finally closed around a medium sized bottle filled with clear liquid. He quickly doused the rag in his hand, ignoring the unpleasant scent the alcohol produced and the icy feel of the damp cloth as he pressed it to the first of the deep cuts in the kids shoulder.

The boy hissed at the sharp sting, subconsciously trying to arch away from the cloth in what the elder assumed to be a futile attempt at escaping the harsh sting the alcohol brought with it, and Kanda made an annoyed sound in the back of his throat as he pressed his free hand against the center of Allen's heaving chest, forcing the boy back down as he continued to clean the wounds, ignoring the pained whimpers and hisses that escaped from between gritted teeth each time the cloth glided across the wounds on his shoulder and the tender, fevered flesh that surrounded them.

The sprout was lucky he was going out of his way to do this for him, and he wasn't about to give the brat an even bigger break by being  _gentle_  just to ease a little bit of the pain. He continued cleansing the wounds for a few minutes more, his movements quick, precise, and efficient, lacking any form of gentleness or care, before he deemed it enough and discarded the now ruined towel, throwing it in the same unnamed corner with the boy's discarded cloths.

He sat back slightly, eyes traveling over the now cleaned wounds, noting with a small shred of satisfaction that the bleeding had slowed, before reaching out for another towel and dousing it with the alcohol just as he had the first before laying his hand spread wide on Allen's chest, pushing down firmly and setting about cleaning the marks on his side. He once again ignored the whimpers and other pained sounds that kept escaping, as well as the frantic movements as the boy continuously writhed in an attempt to escape the cloth, only prompting the samurai to press down harder against his bruised chest to keep him in place, letting out a disgruntled sigh when the blood was cleaned, giving him his first real look at the cuts that marred his side.

The ones on his shoulder seemed to be the worse of the two, much to the dark exorcist's surprise, having expected the ones on his side to be far worse, simply by the location and how much blood seemed to have been flowing, but the bleeding had already slowed a great deal and the cuts were clean and somewhat shallow, insuring a small possibility that the scars left behind would eventually fade, while the one's that marred his shoulder were jagged, the edges frayed and rough, insuring a long-lasting scar to add to his already vast collection of imperfections that marred his skin no matter how well they healed.

He scoffed at the sight and balled up the ruined towel, tossing it to join the other before grabbing a small jar from the kit beside him and pulling it open, a strong herbal scent coming from inside that made him wrinkle his nose in distaste, before taking a small amount into his hand, once again pinning the brat down and ignoring the pained sounds that escaped and the way his hands fisted in the bedspread tight enough for the color to drain from his knuckles. Kanda efficiently laved the wounds with the strange herbal mixture, making sure each of the marks had a fair amount covering them, his gaze flickering up to Allen's face, blinking in surprise at the small droplets of salt water that had escaped from between his clenched eyelids, but Kanda quickly got over it, rolling his eyes at the pathetic show of weakness.

 _'Crying over a little pain when he's fucking_ unconscious _,_ ' Kanda thought in aggravation,  _'absolutely_ pathetic _.'_

He screwed the cap back onto the salve and set it aside before reaching for the kit once more, pulling out several rolls of gauze and bandages and turning his attention back to Allen.

He seemed to have calmed in the last several minutes, despite the rough way Kanda had treated him thus far, his breathing having become a bit more even, and his hands seemed to be slowly loosening on the sheets, the salve taking its effect and cooling the burn the alcohol had left behind as far as Kanda could tell, and his expression had become a bit calmer, though his teeth remained gritted.

Kanda didn't pay any more attention to his inspection, sure that he'd taken care of all he needed to and just wanting to be done with this. He grabbed hold of the moyashi's deformed wrist, nose wrinkling in disgust at the feel of the rough skin, before pulling he kid into a sitting position, and holding him there with one hand. He clicked his tongue in agitation as the boy moaned in pain, his head lolling forward to rest against Kanda's shoulder, the rest of his weight sagging forward as well, and Kanda slowly pulled his hand from the kid's shoulder, nodding to himself as he set about wrapping the boys wounds, making sure the bandages were pulled taught over the wounds on his abdomen, but not so tight as to make breathing impossible, keeping the pressure consistent as he continued wrapping his chest, and, finally, his injured shoulder, before finally grabbing the boy's other shoulder and pushing him to lie back down.

He straightened up, glaring down at Allen for a moment before scoffing yet again and putting everything away in the kit, leaving the salve on the table beside his bed, and returning the first-aid kit to its place in the back of one of the cabinets in his bathroom, before returning to his room, and going to his closet, pulling out a fresh set of cloths now that the ones he was wearing were covered with the moyashi's blood.

Damn brat, causing him an even bigger hassle despite how much trouble he'd already gone through to help the rooky exorcist. The brat was lucky he didn't just kick him out now and be done with it. It wasn't like he was a member of the medical staff, it wasn't like he had an obligation towards helping the kid in the first place, and he still had no obligation to leave the brat where he was-granted kicking him out could prove to be an even bigger pain in the ass at this point, especially if the weakling decided to croak.

He reached up, pinching the bridge of his nose in an attempt to keep his frustration from flaring to life as he once again entered the bathroom and stripped off his clothes before changing into the new set he'd retrieved, stuffing the bloodied ones into the hamper along with the rest, deciding to just leave and get a start on his day a couple hours early.

It wasn't like he could lie back down and relax with his bed occupied by that stupid beansprout, and he doubted he'd be able to meditate with that annoyance around even if he was unconscious, so there was no point in even trying. He approached the bedside table, picking up a scrap of paper and a pen, writing a quick note, before laying it on the table and setting the salve on one corner to keep it in place, and finally leaving the room, grabbing Mugen on his way out.

**S2 S2 S2 S2 S2**

Allen groaned softly as he slowly managed to pull himself from the oblivion of unconsciousness, struggling to grasp onto the dull pain, rather than shy away from it as his mind seemed to want to, using it as an anchor, a way to pull himself through the thick haze that covered his mind, and he slowly shifted in an attempt to get more comfortable, only to have to stifle the soft cry of pain that attempted to tear from his throat before quickly moving to lie flat on his back again, breathing slightly rapid and unsteady as he waited for the pain to recede, hands fisting in the blanket beneath him till his knuckles turned white.

He forced his eyes open, the silver irises dazed and confused as he turned his head to the side, trying to figure out where he was through the confusion and disorientation that had formed a thick haze over his mind, making it almost impossible to think clearly.

The room was dark, the only light spilling in from the broken window that of the almost nonexistent predawn light that was almost completely shadowed by the pale purple glow of something in the corner, and Allen allowed his gaze to travel from there, his confusion growing as he failed to recognize his surroundings. The room was larger than his own by a fair margin, but barren, only the minimum allowed to exist within these dark stone walls from what he could tell.

He blinked as his eyes wandered to the dresser that rested across from the soft bed he occupied, drawn there by the odd purple glow that seemed to resonate from an ornate hourglass that rested atop the dark wood, brow furrowing in confusion as he registered the blurred bloom that occupied the top half. He blinked a few times in confusion, wondering if his mind was playing tricks on him, his vision clearing too slow for his liking, till he could make out the hourglass with a bit more clarity.

A pristine pink bloom seemed to float in the top half of the ornate glass as though defying gravity itself, its petals giving off an almost ethereal glow that almost made him wonder if he was dreaming.

He stared at the flower for a few moments longer, watching tiredly as one petal's glow began fade until it was no more before breaking from its place amongst its counterparts and slowly drifting to rest on the bottom with a few others that had chosen it as their final resting place, his confusion only growing as he pushed himself into a sitting position, a strange sense of loss and sorrow making itself known as the petal hit the bottom. But it was quickly overrun as he bit back a cry, and fought against the urge to fall back to the sheets as his shoulder and side cried out in protest to his movements, and his muddled mind finally realized the familiar pressure that wrapped around his lithe form, one hand wrapping tenderly around his chest as he waited for the pain to subside, and he shook his head sharply, trying to clear it of at least a fraction of the haze, still trying to figure out where he was.

He took a deep careful breath as the pain faded, and put one hand to his head as he tried to think through what had happened, but everything was a blur. He could remember the akuma and the fight, but when he tried to recall the exact details it was as though he were trying to see it all unfold from deep under raging waters, the images distorted and disjointed, the sounds no better off, and it did no more good than make his shoulder and side ache with a dull agony, reminding him that the wounds still remained. He vaguely recalled stumbling through the streets as he made his way home and then-

Kanda, he'd seen Kanda in the training room, they'd gotten into a fight and he had… He's passed out in the other's grasp. But then what? If that were the case shouldn't he still be on the floor in the training hall, his injuries bleeding and staining the ground crimson? Unless someone found him there and brought him to wherever he was now, but that didn't make any sense. This wasn't the infirmary, he knew that for a fact, he'd seen at once or twice when he visited Toma, and when Lenalee had shown him around when he'd first arrived, and if it were the infirmary he had little doubt that Lenalee would be here, so where…

A new thought slowly began to form, nagging and insistent, even as he continued to brush it aside, to try and force it to leave him alone, but it seemed to refuse, forcing itself on him and honestly making him entertain the idea that maybe Kanda- _Kanda_ -had been the one to bring him here and tend to him, but again he tried to push it away. It made no sense, there was no way  _Kanda_  would do anything even relatively civil for  _him_ , much less anything that could be considered helpful or even…  _kind_ , but at the same time it was the possibility that made the most sense to his frayed consciousness. But, on the slim chance that the bandages around his chest were indeed Kanda's doing then did that mean… this was Kanda's room?

He looked around again, carefully this time and avoiding the lotus that rested on the dresser, finding his shirt and jacket in a heap in an unimportant corner as though they'd been unceremoniously discarded, his eyes resting on the bloodied fabric for a moment before moving on, almost as if he expected to see the dark-haired exorcist hiding somewhere in the shadows.

The walls and floor were dark stone, the same as his own, the door set in one of the walls battered with a multitude of scratches, dents, and chips in the wood, giving his newest suspicion the smallest shred of validation, as was the door that led to the small joined bathroom.

He sighed, trying to shake the annoying, nagging thought away and shifting to lie back down as his head began to throb and his stomach churn, his body still having yet to recover from the blood loss, only to pause as something on the small bedside table caught his eyes, drawing his attention to the small piece of furniture he hadn't taken any notice of before.

A small note rested on the edge, held in place by a small jar, and he reached out taking the small piece of paper up and examining it for a few moments in tired bewilderment before gaining the sense of mind as to actually _read_  it and feeling the smallest shred of indignation as he did so.

_'I have shit I need to do that's a whole hell of a lot more important than taking care of a fucking beansprout so you better be out by the time I get back, or I'll give you a whole hell of a lot worse than those pathetic scratches. And take this shit with you, it's a waste of space and I don't need it.'_

There was no signature, but there didn't need to be, the tone and rude phrasing so familiar to Allen by now that he couldn't help but stare in shock, wondering if he could possibly be reading it right. He read it again just to be sure, feeling a strained, half agitated smile come to his lips as he crushed the note, crinkling it up in a tight fist as he spoke to the empty room.

"The name's… Allen…Not…  _beansprout_ ," he mumbled in a half growl, but he couldn't help but feel some sense of relief at the 'nickname' and the rude tone the letter held, especially now that his suspicions about his whereabouts had been indirectly confirmed. It was weird enough thinking about the elder actually taking care of his injuries, doing something that could be considered-well, something that involved him being something other than a complete and total  _ass_ , it would have been far too strange if Kanda had suddenly become civil, not to mention it made his situation a bit more believable.

He sighed lowly and pushed himself up, biting back a groan as the movement stretched the wounds on his shoulder and earned a cry of protest from his ribs, hunching over from the pain as he stumbled towards his jacket and shirt, being careful as he kneeled down and pulled them both on over the bandage, before returning to the bedside and taking the small jar and placing it inside one pocket along with the note. He took one last look around, making sure he had all of his things, and that the room was no worse than it had been when he'd awoken

Last thing he wanted was to cause Kanda any more trouble after what the elder had already done for him, so, even if his wounds cried out and pleaded for him to remain resting, he thought it best to leave before the samurai's return.

He took a deep breath and walked towards the door, taking one last curious glance at the lotus in the hourglass before stepping out and allowing the door to close behind him with a soft click.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you very much for reading and I hope you enjoyed! ^_^  
> ❤ Comments and kudos are greatly appreciated ❤  
> Tumblr: Starisia.tumblr.com


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